


they have you (they have us)

by Saraste



Series: scars of azanulbizar [4]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Adoption, Angst, Braids, Dwarf Culture & Customs, F/F, Family, Fluff, Homecoming, Kidfic, Post-Battle of Azanulbizar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 16:47:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9500693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saraste/pseuds/Saraste
Summary: Nori is anxious as she waits Dwalin back from Azanulbizar, as things have changed since Dwalin went off to battle.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is Nori's side of the tale from [a new braid (or two)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9472598).

The weight on Nori’s hip is more than the weight of a pebble, it’s the weight of one future balanced against another, one future gone already, Nori has been thinking, every time she saw the warriors making it home from Azanulbizar.

 

Dwalin had not been among the first, of course she hadn’t been, and Nori had not expected her to be. She knew that her fierce love would be where Thorin was. Protecting their King. For a King Thorin now was, that much was known even in Ered Luin. The news of the survivors spread quick, telling of Thorin’s valor, of Dwalin’s steadfast dedication to him, they were shield-siblings and where one went there went the other. Nori had not, would not, think about the mighthavebeen’s had Thorin fallen. She knew how single-minded Dwalin could be. And as Thorin’s single-mindedness boils down to protecting his people, it isn’t a great surprise their King is coming home with the last of their warriors, with Dwalin at his side.

 

Nori looks at the dark haired wee thing on her hip, her body familiar with the weight of a young life carried thus, for has she not taken care of Ori in this way for years. The little thing is already the gem of everyone’s eye, where Nori’s family is concerned. Ori is young enough that they’re playmates, of a sort, as the pebble is still very young, unsteady on their feet yet, with Ori running about the countryside. Dori is the doting aunt, their dear Mam a loving grand-dam. It’s perfect, all but for the fact that Dwalin does not know. This is not something put in a missive. Nori is quite certain she wouldn’t be able to put this to words on paper even if she had sent a message.

 

She knows that Dwalin is coming, the ravens have come and given the news, of the last contingent of warriors coming home nearing Ered Luin.  _ Coming home _ . 

 

But what homecoming means now, with the squirming weight of a pebble on Nori’s hip as she joins others to welcome home the last homecomers, Nori does not know. It’s the not knowing that gnaws at her. She does not regret what she has done and doesn’t think that Dwalin will disapprove, but Nori isn’t any longer the Nori Dwalin left behind.

 

Nor is Dwalin, Nori can tell right away as she sees her on the road, dusty and with new scars on her face. New shadows around her eyes as she walks towards Nori. But the smile, brittle as it is, is still mostly the same as it spreads across Dwalin’s face.  

 

Nori’s smile isn’t brittle, but bright and blinding. Dwalin is alive. Home. Nori wants to weep for joy, dance for merriment, press her lips to Dwalin’s and soothe away the shadows of carnage from her eyes. Hold her and tell her that it’s safe. That Dwalin is safe. That Nori loves her, that Nori will help her heal. Yet Nori’s heart is in her throat, suddenly, for what if the smile fades when Dwalin sees the braids, realizes what it is that she’s come home to? That what had been two would now be three, that ---

 

‘And who’s this?’ Dwalin asks, shaking Nori away from her unhelpful thoughts. Her voice is as it’s ever been, especially gentle when talking to little one’s.

 

Nori looks and sees it, sees the way Dwalin looks at the pebble. The little one fidgets under the scrutiny of this fierce warrior, Nori’s warrior, though Dwalin is not the first warrior the pebble has known. Nori settles them with practised ease, bouncing her hip. ‘ It’s… no-one is coming for them. They have no-one, now.’

 

‘They have you,’ Dwalin says, stepping closer. ‘And me.’

There’s a catch in Nori’s throat as she speaks, she cannot quite get enough air. She has to hear Dwalin say it. ‘You have to mean that.’

 

‘I do,’ Dwalin says, she kisses Nori, gentle. ‘Seems I’ll need to put a new braid in your hair. Or two.’ Her big fingers comb through Nori’s unbound hair, finding the braid that she had braided in before she had left, that’ll need to be unwound and washed, now, Nori’s thrilled that Dwalin’s here to do that, now.

 

Nori’s heart sings with joy as she hugs Dwalin with one arm, the other keeping hold of the dwarfling on her right hip. Dwalin presses their foreheads together. 

 

‘Welcome home,’ Nori says, hushed. 

 

Before she can say anything else she hears a familiar voice speak. Of course. Not one sibling without the other, although she doesn’t mind the interruption. ‘Hello, Nori.’

 

Dwalin draws back from Nori, but her arm sneaks to hold Nori close to her side and there is nowhere she’d rather be. Nori sees Balin look at them, her eyes assessing the pebble and the braids Nori has braided in, declaring of kinship. 

 

‘Welcome home, Balin.’

 

Balin stands there, beaming at the pair of them, the trio of them. ‘Well, it seems my sister has gotten another head of hair to braid, hasn’t she?’

 

‘I have. And it’s good,’ Dwalin replies. 

 

Her arm around Nori gives her a reassuring squeeze. Nori is happier than she has ever dared hope to be, since the moment an orphaned pebble clung to her at the market. It’s good to have Dwalin home.


End file.
